(A/N: Sorry for uploading late I'm busy with uni and with other stuff. Tbh I would like to upload more consistently and every day but yeah. Anyways here is the chapter is mid in my opinion. I will try fixing those issues by the next chapters that will follow.)
"Quick, there's a survivor here!"
The shout snapped Corkus out of his daze. His heart lurched.
'The soldiers haven't left yet?' he thought as he stared in the direction of the voice with his bow drawn.
Through the still rising smoke, he saw three figures rushing toward him.
They were men dressed in travel-worn cloaks, carrying small packs and a lantern that cut through the grey haze.
As they approached him, one of them, who was a bit further than the rest, took notice of Corkus' drawn weapon and immediately stopped dead in his tracks.
"Whoa, easy there, boy! We aren't here to hurt you," he said with his hands raised high.
"Yeah, kid, we are just passing merchants who just happened to pass by," another man, taller with a patchy beard, quickly added.
"We saw the smoke from the road, and so we came to check to see what happened."
Taking quick notice of Corkus' dry lips, the third man, who was bald with a full beard, unslung a waterskin from his waist and held it forward.
"Here, drink. You're lucky we were in the area; otherwise, you would eventually succumb to your injuries and get eaten by wild animals."
"Come back with us toward the caravan so our doctor can treat your injuries, but also so you can eat your fill," the man said with a smile plastered on his face.
'My mom told me to never trust strangers, but they are right. I'm injured, hungry, and thirsty. But I'm also a person from the 21st century who hasn't hunted shit in his life, so the chances of me surviving alone in the wilderness are pretty slim.'
"Alright, I will come along with you," Corkus said as he put the arrow and the bow back in the quiver.
"Hehe, smart choice, kid; you will not regret it," the bald man said with a smirk as he handed him the flask.
Then the four of them started walking — the bald man in the front, Corkus following closely behind, and the other two at his sides.
'I know that following them was a risky move, but what choice do I have? This is Berserk, a world filled with magical beings, supernatural monsters, and death awaiting in every corner.'
'Let's just hope they're actually good Samaritans,' he thought as he drank from the flask.
They guided him toward the treeline, leaving the burned ruins behind. Soon they arrived at a dirt road, and next to it was a caravan.
The caravan consisted of three wooden but sturdy wagons. Each one had a designated driver. As they approached the caravan, Corkus decided to break the silence.
"So, am I the only one left alive?" he asked.
"Yeah, when we arrived, everything was in ruins. A real shame," the patchy-bearded man replied.
Then, from inside one of the wagons, a man came out. He appeared to be in his mid-50s with a huge gut and a mustache.
He didn't wear a cloak like the others but a shirt rolled up at the sleeves, revealing arms thick with fat rather than muscle. His boots were polished, expensive, and out of place compared to the ragged clothes of the others.
"Mmph, is he the only one?" the man asked as he stepped fully into the light.
"Y-Yes, boss!" all three men said at once, straightening instantly.
"Anyway, take him to the doctor; he's inside the second wagon," the boss said as he pointed toward the wagon in the middle.
Corkus blinked. 'This… thing… is the boss?'
The boss sniffed loudly and wiped sweat off his brow with a greasy cloth.
"Take him to the doctor," he said, waving a dismissive hand. Then he turned and walked back into the first wagon without even looking at Corkus again.
'This guy is too suspicious; I'd better have my guard up,' Corkus thought.
The bald man nudged him with a forced smile. "C'mon, kid. Doc's inside."
Corkus climbed into the second wagon. Inside, it smelled faintly of herbs. A lantern hung from the ceiling, illuminating crates, jars, and old bandages.
Sitting on a stool was the "doctor," a thin man in his late forties wearing a long brown coat. He had long, lanky limbs and sunken cheeks. He glanced up.
"Oh? Another wounded?" he muttered in a raspy voice. "Sit."
Corkus sat on an overturned crate.
The doctor inspected him briefly, prodding his cuts, bruises, and his stomach, where a sword wound bled sluggishly.
"You've lost quite a bit of blood," the doctor said flatly.
"If you had been left there, you would've passed out before dusk. You'll need a few weeks of rest so the area can heal."
He wrapped the wound with surprisingly clean linen.
"I'll give you herbs for the pain. Drink them with water."
Corkus nodded. "Thank you."
Just then—
**THUD**
**Rattle**
A noise came from the third wagon.
Something heavy was shifting.
Corkus jolted slightly. "What was that?"
"Nothing," the doctor said without missing a beat. "Just… cattle. We transport livestock sometimes."
Corkus narrowed his eyes. *That sounded like chains shifting; don't tell me they are—*
"Doc! Are you done?" the bald man shouted from outside.
"Almost!" the doctor replied.
Corkus forced his expression to remain neutral as he stood up.
"Where do you think you're going?" the doctor asked, displeased.
"I need to pee really badly. If I stay even a little longer, I'm going to pee myself, and the whole wagon will smell terrible. You don't want that to happen, right?" he said with a smirk.
"…Fine. Go."
Corkus stepped out of the wagon, forcing his shoulders to stay relaxed even though his pulse hammered like a drum.
The bald man leaned against the wheel, arms crossed. "Make it quick, kid. We're moving out soon."
"Yeah, yeah…" Corkus muttered, waving him off as he walked toward the tree line.
He kept his pace steady until he reached the first row of trees. Then he crouched down as if preparing to relieve himself.
'Fuck, they are definitely traffickers.'
'Shit… I knew something was off the moment I saw the boss's stupid greedy face'
He slowly lifted his eyes, looking left and right. No one was watching him closely, not yet at least.
Corkus took one careful step deeper into the woods, then another.
Then he broke into a full sprint.
"HEY!"
"STOP HIM!"
"The brat's escaping!"
Branches whipped his face and arms as he tore deeper into the forest, ignoring the searing pain in his stomach wound.
His vision wavered with every step, but adrenaline carried him forward.
*FWIP*
A dagger whistled past his ear, embedding itself into a tree.
Corkus gasped and dove behind a fallen log. 'Shit! That was close,' he thought as he fumbled for his bow with trembling hands.
"Come out, kid!" a voice snarled. "You can't run far!"
Corkus nocked an arrow and peeked over the log—just in time to see a silhouette rushing toward him.
'Let's hope this works.'
He fired.
The arrow struck the rushing man in the neck.
He dropped instantly, choking on his own blood.
Corkus' breath hitched.
'Did I just kill someone?'
But there was no time to process.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
The bald man appeared, raising a short axe.
Corkus grabbed another arrow. 'Fuck, he's too close.'
**SWING**
The man swung the axe, aiming to split Corkus's skull. But Corkus managed to dodge just in time.
**THUD**
*Fuck, my axe got stuck,* the man panicked as he tried to wrench it free.
*This is my chance,* Corkus thought before ramming the arrow straight into the man's eye.
"AHHH!" the man screamed, clutching his ruined socket.
Corkus tried to run again.
But the forest suddenly twisted.
'Why are the trees bending so unnaturally… and why do my legs feel heavy?'
'No… WAIT. Don't tell me the water they gave me was poisoned!'
'Fuck, I'm done for…'
His vision blurred. He staggered, trying to keep himself upright.
'I need to escape—'
He collapsed before he could take another step.
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